Just things
by Airannath
Summary: She had always had a weird feeling about the unexpected calls she sometimes received during a day. Being a cop, it shouldn't have been something unusual - she had to be informed about the cases she was working on. However, she always felt fear rising in her soul whenever she heard her phone's ringtone.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist, nor the characters. I don't get any money from this story. I am grateful I discovered the show; I wish Jisbon was canon.**

Just a call

Teresa hated unexpected phone calls. They reminded her that life happened - mostly ended - and she could do nothing about it. A phone call made her aware of her mother's death. Her father used to call her in the middle of the night to shout at her. (Apparently, he helt better after that.) James had an accident, while trying to call her. In a nutshell, nothing good happened.  
Of course that this wasn't the case anymore, with her being a cop. Or shouldn't, anyway. Having her own team, again, she had to be informed about different cases they were working on. Or sometimes, it was one of her former teammates, that was worried about her well-being. (Mostly Grace.) However, she still felt uneasy everytime she was startled by the noisy ringtone of her mobile.

She stared at the telephone on the table; from the angle it was situated, she could read the name of the caller: Patrick Jane.  
Her heart sank deeper in her ribcage at the simple thought that they hadn't talked in months. She had never meant it. Even after moving to DC. and becoming Marcus' wife, she had tried her best to keep in touch with Jane. He had been her bestfriend, after all. A little distance shouldn't have been able to pull them apart.  
However, she failed. The conversations had became more and more awkward every week; she could feel the sadness in his voice and the desperation in her soul. There had always been a voice in her head that told her that it shouldn't be this way. She had tried to shut it off before allowing any regrets to grow. Before realizing it, the calls stopped.

She took her phone in the hand and stared at it. She wished so hard to stop being afraid; she used to be so confident in herself and now..?. She pressed the 'answer' button, silently praying for the best. Maybe the bad possibilities were only in her mind.  
"Hello, Jane."  
Five seconds passed in silence.  
She was starting to worry that he might have closed the call, when the answer came: "Hello, Lisbon."

Her heart slowed her beats for a second and a small smile appeared on her face. Why didn't she have his observation skills? She wished she was able to tell his mood by only his voice. She wasn't sure that he'd answer the questions honestly. He never did. It didn't mean she wasn't going to ask, though.  
"What are you doing?"  
He hesitated.  
" Well."  
He seemed sad. Or just tired? She sweared she could also feel relief there. Before she could deepen her thoughts regarding his mood, he intrerupted.  
"Well...not actually that well. There's bomb in front of me that it's about to detonate. No way out. "

Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to comprehend the concept. He didn't mean what she thought he meant, right? He couldn't be serious. It was utterly foolish to say that Patrick Jane was about to die in a few seconds. Completely. Her heart suddenly stopped beating as the silence took over the conversation for a few seconds. This situation was ridiculous. He was supposed to laugh and say 'Gotcha!' and she was supposed to get annoyed and scold him for joking about such a serious scenario. That's the way their dialogues usually went. Then why the hell didn't he laugh?  
"I have about a minute. Remember when I said that I would call you if I were dying?" He asked, allowing himself a chuckle she more felt than heard. "I wanted to hear your voice before I go."  
He was awfully calm. Too calm for her own liking; she was able to hear and feel her blood in her veins and she found breathing a hard task to accomplish. Yet here he was, sounding as if he told her he was coming to Washington D.C. to visit her.  
"Also", he continued, "there's something I should have told you a long time ago. I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but then I thought you have the right to know."  
'No', said her lips, but never the voice. She gulped. Why was she so sure she knew what he meant by it? He could say anything. She wasn't supposed to get nervous; her heart wasn't supposed to start to beat so fast and her fingers shouldn't get cold.  
"You have the right to know that you are beautiful. You have the most beautiful soul I've ever seen. You have the right to know you are loved. And safe, and wise. In this new life of yours..."here he hesitated for a second, as if trying to gain some courage, but she barely felt the time passing. "Good luck, Teresa. I love you. This time I'm not taking my words back."

Teresa had been a lucky woman. She had received a few times confession from various men in her life. She did many things, from rejecting them, to getting scared, nervous or glad. She had never laughed, though.  
Her hands clasped her phone until her knuckles turned white. That jerk. That jerk was able to get the most unexpected reactions out of her. He also had the worst timing ever. She was married and he was dying and he was telling her that...  
She wanted to answer. To excuse herself for laughing in his face. Her mouth was opening and closing itself; no words came out.  
"My time is running out. I should..."  
"Don't!"  
Was it a shout? Or a whisper? Very hard to tell, since she was too focused on the situation.  
"Please, stay with me. Okay? Stay with me." she heard herself saying, as if he was in an operation snd she could actually do something about the situation. She couldn't comprehend the fact that it was impossible to help him.  
"I'll get it done, okay? I'll do something. Let me remember how to defuse a bomb. I did it once."  
"You had no idea what you were doing." he answered, and she could see his smile.  
"Shut up, Jane."  
"If this makes you happy, Teresa. Shall I remind you that I don't have many seconds left? I'd rather spend them by thanking you."  
"Thanking? What for?"  
" For saving an ugly and shattered man."  
"Patrick.."  
This was the only thing she managed to say before the call ended. Teresa stared at the screen, trying to comprehend what happened. She felt as if her life was sucked out of her, despite Patrick being the one with his life in danger. Or maybe he was already dead.  
What a funny word, dead.

"I hate you." Her voice was flat. It had no emotion, not even anger or hatred. She was just trying to pick one thought and comprehend it. She wasn't even sure she spoke. She was more than sure that she didn't hate him but it was easier to say it. Despite being the one who could threw herself inf a gun to save someone's life, she had never considered herself brave.  
She heard the door opening and the usual hard footsteps following it. She didn't feel like turning back, to greet her husband. He could see by himself that she was good and alive. Exactly what Jane wasn't.  
"Teresa? What happened? Why are-"  
Such a noise. When she married him, she had been pretty sure that his voice wasn't so annoying to her. Months of her life togheter and he hadn't been so distressing to her.  
"Get out."  
"But-"  
"OUT."  
Maybe she shouldn't have been that rude. Though if this was the only way she could make him shut up, she didn't mind. As soon as she heard the shower, she started packing a few things.  
She was going to be in the case. She was sure she would need a bit of persuasion but she didn't accept anyone else to do it.

She couldn't save his life but maybe she could solve his murder.

**NOTE**: Thank you for reading this until the end. This is the first story I posted here; also, English is not my mother language so I may have mistakes in there.

I'm thinking into continuing it in another chapter or two. I'm not sure yet.

Review if you feel like. Criticism is welcomed with open arms, as long as you argue it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All the characters mentioned in this fanfiction belong to Bruno Heller. I don't get any money from this story.**

**I am grateful the show exists, I am not happy that Jisbon isn't canon yet.**

Just a cup of tea

It was cold.

She had been staring at the blue teacup for at least five minutes. Maybe more. It definetely was cold by now. It would taste even worse now...if she drank it, that's it.

She didn't have to do it. She didn't even liked tea. It was tasteless, just water and dead leaves. It was acceptable at best, if she added some milk and sugar. She never completely understood why Jane drank it. Coffee was really good and kept you awake and aware of the surroundings. Tea made you sleepy and dreamy. That was for the blond man.

Her fingers turned into fists as she reminded that she wasn't supposed to speak about him at the present tense. She had burried him a week before. He was dead. As dead as possible. Not on this planet anymore. Not in this life anymore. She hoped there was some after-life they could meet again. It would be nice.

Teresa rested her elbows on the small desk she somehow managed to get there and put her head in her hands. How did it all go so wrong? Two months ago she was...happy. She wasn't in love with Marcus, but she loved him, if this made any sense. She married him, trying to forget about the other man. Then had stopped talking and then he died and he left her feeling as if a part of her soul was missing; she'd been feeling empty ever since - she was too terified to look into her own soul, but she wouldn't admit it even to herself.

Now she was debating whether or not she should drink a cup of tea. Not any kind of tea, though. Belladona. The one that gave Jane visions of her daughter, if she were alive at that moment. She would probably see the man. She hoped she would see the man.

You were a good cop. What a shame you turned this way, a voice from her head told her and she recognized it as belonging to Abbott.

The FBI agent would have loved to fight back; to say that she was a good cop and that she was going to what's right everytime. The bad part was that she couldn't. She was seriously considerating drugging herself in order to see an illusion of a loved man. A good cop didn't do that. She would have never seen herself doing that, before meeting Jane. Even after him. She had been his anchor. She had been the serious, the fair one. After his death, she wasn't completely sure she knew who she was.

She heard the ringtone; she closed her eyes, deciding to ignore it. Being in the middle of an internal battle, she really didn't want to talk to anyone...except one whom she couldn't speak a word to. Well, she could, but he wouldn't give her any answer.

The brunette let out a sigh and let her mind wander in the events that happened lately.

Since the phone call, she had been obsessed with finding the killer, much like Jane used to be with Red John. Abbott had managed somehow to get her in the case. He had even been kind enough to bring the whole team back. She'd been a little reluctant at first, but they made her understood that they also missed Jane. They had been a family. They still were a family; small, broken, dysfunctional and now lacking an important member, but still a family. They weren't going to let her alone in this mess. She appreciated it more than she showed it.

She had resigned from her job at the Washington and applied for FBI, the ones who were investigating his murder. It was easier that way. There were also other cases that could, maybe, take her mind away from Jane, even if just a little. She was surprised and not that much when they took her back. She was a good, after all.

She hadn't break up with Marcus. Things were too complicated. If he was patient enough, maybe he'd see some spark of the Teresa he had known. Not very possible, but maybe it was worth trying. She had moved back in Austin, where it was closer to the FBI. She was surprised to find out that her old house was still unocuppied but the thought pleased her. Something that seemed a little bit home.

Her fist met the small, wooden piece of furniture, as she retold herself that she hadn't progresed in this case. Not even by an inch. This had to be the hardest case since Red John. Maybe the fact she was involved had a lot to do with it.

They barely found something of him that could be buried. He was almost completly carbonized. She had tried hardly not to laugh when she saw the crime scene. She went away from the others and laughed for ten seconds before starting to cry. He had died in his own Airstream, somehow trapped in there. Alone. Fucking alone. He had had her voice but that was all. He had had the opportunity to confess something she wasn't ready to think of yet. It would simply destroy any desire of hers to live and she couldn't allow that...yet. She wasn't sure what she was going to do after that, but she didn't even care.

She spent most nights reading Jane's files and drink coffee. She knew them by word; this didn't stop her for reading them over and over again, just to make sure she didn't miss anything. She didn't have his brain after all. She was looking into everything related to Red John, from minions to the man himself. It was a ridiculous thought, but maybe he had escaped. Maybe he was actually alive and got his revenge on Jane. Anything was possible and she wasn't going to let any option pass.

The team was worried for her, she could see it. They were trying their best to make everything easier to her. Grace was sometimes telling storries about Mary, storries the older woman tried her best to seem interested in. Wayne was giving her his food; this meant a lot, coming from him and she tried to be grateful - especially since she was barely eating these days. Cho was only...Cho. He didn't do anything in particular; something told her that she was going to receive a speech sooner or later. Better later.

Somehow, they had found out that she spent her weekends in Sacramento, at the CBI; She woke up one morning with them in their rightful places. Just like her, they had brought with themselves some offices and chairs and spent the night there. ( It wasn't like it was impossible to purchase some. Grace even had her laptop with her) From the look on their faces, they were going to continue doing so. She had wanted to scold them but she gave up as soon as her mouth opened. They were doing the same thing she was; she had no right to stop them. She had left them and went back to her office. There, it all seemed normal again. She could pretend she was working, with hundreds of complaints againist Jane, while the man was napping on the couch that wasn't there anymore. It was all pretend, though. She was creative enough to imagine everything the way it used to be. The team was providing some necessary noise.

Now, she was alone. It was Friday night. She didn't know where the others were but she could guess if she wanted. Or call. She didn't want to do any of these options. She was too busy being unable to decide if she wanted to drink the tea or not. It would give her a vision of Jane, right? Something from her imagination. She knew that he couldn't come up with anything new - since he wasn't real - but maybe twelve years of partnership were enough to give her one idea, something.

She took a sip. It wasn't that bad, she supposed. Or maybe she was telling herself so. Maybe all the hope she was unable to deny that she felt made everything better.

The woman looked around, expecting to see something unusual. Jane had seen an animal - a frog, or a rabbit. Maybe she'd see a horse. Or the pony he'd bought for her long ago. The memory made her hurt a little but she tried to ignore it. After fifteen seconds spent in silence, she decided that it was inutile. Really, ridiculous. What had she expected? Him to appear out of nowhere and to tell her again things she longed for years? To make a trick and make the emptiness in her go away? (Though she expected that the emptiness will never go away, not completely).

She got up from her chair, ready to take her leather jacket and go to the motel. She had rememembered well the effects of the belladona tea, excepting one.

She fainted on her way to the jacket. Her body hit the floor and her vision blackened.

Nobody heard anything, though.

Her eyes opened, so suddenly it almost hurt. She felt extremely strange, as if she had just woken up from a long sleep. She dared hoping, for a second, that everything had been just a dream. That she imagined everything and everyone was alive and safe. The only thing was that, unfortunately, the hole in her soul wouldn't go away. She looked around. She was on a hospital bed, in a white room. Probably the sides effects of the belladone She was alone and lonely. Such a fate she deserved; she really should stop wishing things that won't get real, ever. Her hands were tied, her vision was blurry and her heart hurt as if a knife had went through it. Such a foolish she was-

"I've always hoped you wouldn't ever use it." she heard from somewhere on her left.

She turned her head. Here he was, exactly the way she she remembered him. Tall, with his curly hair, with his charming smile. His eyes were sad, though, and she would have done anything to make the sadness disappear. He also wear a vest - since she secretely always loved his vests. She was smiling and at the edge of crying. She mentally scolded herself. She wasn't supposed to cry now. She didn't know what she was supposed to do but crying shouldn't have been on the list. She wished she could wipe them away before she got more embarrased, but she couldn't do it. She felt his soft hands doing it for her. Her tears didn't stop, though. If anything, more were coming.

"I missed you." she said, in a soft voice, looking at his eyes.

"I missed you, too." he answered, with a smile. "I truly did. Sorry for...everything."

Sorry for saying 'goodbye' like that. Sorry for not saying ' I love you' sooner. Sorry for letting you go, making you believe I don't care. Sorry for making you cry, for putting you in this pain.

Jane slowly kissed her eyes.

" You're at the hospital, now. You will see me today a little longer but you have to promise me you won't drink any more tea.'

Her face hardened. How dared he say that. He was dead and he was still able to tell her what to do. She didn't want to lose him.

"It doesn't do you any well, Teresa. You have to stop. I am not real. I am just another part of you, but you know well I wouldn't let you do that to yourself. You need to find happiness. Find your own Lisbon."

The white room faded slowly and she found heself in a normal hospital room. With colours and noises. With people.

With people.

She wasn't alone. Besides her, Grace, Wayne and Cho were sleeping, on chairs.

She allowed herself a smirk. Maybe they could provide some sort of 'Lisbon'.

It was worth trying, at least.

* * *

**A/N:** Your reviews mean much more to me than you could ever expect! Thank you! *hugs*

That's why I tried to write the second chapter today. I am not completely satisfied but I guess it could work as the second chapter. I have in my mind planned another chapter. Maybe two.

I have three other stories planned :D I don't think I'll post all of them (I'll pick one at the moment, on which I can focus on) but they are going to be funnier than this one! (At least two of them. The third is more..mysterious. I have a good villain planned for it)

Review if you want! Criticism is welcomed as long as you argue it.


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